Chance Meeting
by Hyperbunbun
Summary: Draco hasn't been very well since a tragedy in his family. All he does is... nothing. No one understands him, and he doesn't feel like talking to anyone. Until one day, a chance meeting changes all. Friendship. H&D. A little angst. Oneshot, maybe.


**Well hey there. This is Hyperbunbun!**

**This story was a "challenge" (laughs) that the author _werecool_** **asked me to do. Or so she says... Anyway, she told me these circumstances: It's years since Draco & Harry last met. Draco is at the bar of the Leaky Cauldron, and Harry comes in, and Draco goes over to talk like old buddies. The time limit was an hour (cough).  
**

**That's the details, basically. It's just a basic-plotted story.**

**Read on!**

**-Hyperbunbun :3**

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It had been already two years since the death of Lord Voldemort. Life was calm and collected after that, if not even boring.

Nothing has happened much these days. No exciting gossip, no new wizard products, and no breaking news from either magical or Muggle worlds.

Draco was staying at the Leaky Cauldron. He had for several months now for no particular reason. No one knew why he stayed at that place, and no one dared to ask. All he did everyday was walk downstairs to the restaurant/bar area, sit at an empty table without ordering anything, and after a long time leave again.

On a particular dusky afternoon at the Cauldron, Draco was seen quietly walking down the stairs to the restaurant, like usual. This time, he seemed more restless than usual. But as always, no one asked him why.

He sat down at an empty table and fiddled with his hands, his eyes never leaving the hospital-white tablecloth covering the table. He stared at nothing, and nothing stared back.

A bell tinkled cheerfully at the other side of the bar, signaling that a customer had opened the front door. Draco ignored it and kept on staring intently at the table as if it gave him all the pleasure in the world.

The newcomer's footsteps thudded past the door to the bar. The footsteps stopped and were replaced by squeaking. He's going straight for the bar, thought Draco mindlessly, concluding that to be the squeaking he heard, but his eyes never left the intriguing tablecloth and its fascinating metallic designs. Nothing can be more interesting than this beautiful tablecloth...

"Fire whiskey on the rocks, please, Embert."

Draco blinked, then abruptly hitched his breath. He knew that voice. He knew it very well. Draco forgot all about the interesting tablecloth and looked to his left, towards the bar. There was only one customer there, the one that just came in. From where he was at, Draco could see only a brown overcoat and jeans. The face was blocked from view.

He had to get closer.

Draco subconsciously felt himself stand up and slowly walk to the bar. By the time he noticed what he was doing, he was seated on a barstool two seats away from the other customer.

Embert, the bartender, had brought the customer his fire whiskey. He was surprised to see that Draco had also situated himself at his bar.

"Would you like something too, Mr. Malfoy?" Embert asked lightly.

From the corner of his eye, Draco saw the customer stiffen at his name. "A dirty margarita," Draco said simply, still eying the man next to him.

Embert left again.

Draco now turned his whole head toward the person in the overcoat, whose head was bowed. Draco was silent while observing his skinny hands, his messy brown hair, and his plain round glasses settled above his nose.

"Potter," Draco said, not knowing whether he meant it as a statement or a question.

The man next to him also turned his head fully around. He gave Draco a slight grin.

"Malfoy."

"What brings you here... not just to drink Embert's fine whiskey, I'm sure."

"No. I'm here for my job."

"Hmm," Draco said and slowly looked away. He couldn't believe he was in a conversation with Harry Potter.

"It's been two years," Harry stated absentmindedly.

Draco looked down at the granite bar table. There was no intriguing tablecloth this time.

"Yeah…it has. How have you been?"

"I'm good. Being an auror suits me well."

Embert came back with a dirty margarita, placed it in front of Draco, and left.

"…"

Harry stared at Draco's drink. "What about you? Haven't seen you at all… where've you been?"

"Nowhere. I've been nowhere."

"Hm?"

"…My mother died a year back from unknown causes while my father was still in Azkaban. After I gave her a small funeral, I started wandering across Britain…and now I've wandered here."

Both were silent. Finally Harry sighed a little and said, "I'm sorry."

"Yeah."

They were silent again. Draco downed his drink in two gulps. Harry watched.

"Does your father know?"

"That mother died? Haven't told him yet..."

"Will you?"

Draco had no idea why he was telling Harry all this. "Maybe."

Harry fiddled around with his glass of whiskey, and then finished it off.

"Where're you staying?"

Draco found it funny that Harry cared this much about a Malfoy. "Upstairs, room 17."

"Hm."

"..."

Harry straightened up and got off the stool. He sighed dramatically. "Well, I need to get going now. It was nice seeing you again."

Draco slowly nodded, "Yeah."

Harry fixed his clothes a bit, readjusted his glasses, shook his bangs away from his face, and prepared to leave.

Then he stopped.

"Hey," Harry said softly, "I need to visit Azkaban for my job next week… Would you… would you like to join me?"

"…"

"Your dad, you know… you can tell him then."

Draco suddenly felt self-conscious. "That would be…"

Draco fell silent for a moment. Harry waited patiently for an answer.

"…nice."

Harry bit back a smile, but he did put one hand on Draco's shoulder for a second.

"Then, I guess I'll see you later." Harry's footsteps went farther and farther away. There was a cheerful tinkling of bells as the door opened and then a muffled _thud_ as the door closed again.

Draco hadn't moved. He was staring intently at the granite bar counter, the empty margarita glass left to the side. Was it just he, or did the granite countertop suddenly look even more intriguing than the tablecloth?

He stared for a few seconds more, contemplating on the granite's designs. Then he got off the stool, stretched a bit, and headed up the stairs.

"'I'll see you later', huh?" Draco said to no one in particular, repeating Harry's words.

He was silent for a few seconds.

"But…I guess I will."

--

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**Hmm, I though the death of Draco's mother would be a good reason for him to get depressed.**

**What do you think?? Should I make another chapter... or not...**

**I choose bad comments over no comments! :P**

**Please comment down here.**

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